Lone
by RunicNature
Summary: After the death of her father, Anya is alone, running from her destiny. Suddenly someone from her past returns to her life and reminds her that she has something worth fighting for still. Butch x Female Lone Wanderer. Mature for a reason! this is a sort of re-write of previous versions. Mostly canon content, with added artistic liberties
1. 1

The sky was fiery shades of reds and orange as the sun kissed the horizon. Anya sat atop the roof of her home in Megaton, watching and reminiscing. She'd only had a short time with her father, after spending years searching for him, but in that short time they had enjoyed watching the sun set with one another. He'd told her that it was her mother's favourite thing too.

Anya wanted a drink. Wanted to escape. But there she sat, unable to pull herself away from the sunsets she once enjoyed. Truthfully, she rarely saw them now. When her father died, she hid herself away in the bar- almost from moment of waking until she drank so much she was near passing out. She was angry. She was hurt.

She was scared.

Now that he was gone, expectation fell to her to continue his work. She knew very little about Project Purity. Hell, she still knew very little about the wastes- despite the fact it was five years since she'd set foot outside the vault.

And it'd been two years since her father died.

Anya sighed and rubbed her face. Being sober wasn't her preferred state, but she had to admit that watching the scenery gave her a sense of inner peace. Confidence, on the other hand, was far from present. She knew she'd let hundreds of people down, and the guilt nagged at her daily. Wrinkling her nose, Anya let her mind wander to the events of the last few days.

Seeing Butch had been the last thing she'd expected. When he surprised her while she was drinking in Moriarty's bar, she'd suckered punched him in the gut. The blow had sent him sprawling to the ground, taking stools and chairs with him. Then he laughed.

"Shit, Bambi, you've definitely gotten stronger!" He'd exclaimed, pulling himself up from the floor with that stupid arrogant grin.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She asked gruffly.

"I could ask you the same thing, Bambi." His use of his favourite teasing pet name set her on edge.

"Stop calling me that, asshole. Go away," she said, turning to the food that was placed in front of her. It'd felt good to take her anger and frustration out on someone. Moriarty gave her a look, one that asked her if she needed him to remove the annoyance. Sighing, she shook her head and speared a morself with the crude fork she'd been given.

For two days, Butch had been a constant annoyance. To the point where she'd decided to stay home that day in an effort to avoid him. Doing so, however, meant getting moderately sober. She had a killer headache, one that she slept off for a majority of the day, but she soon grew too bored to sit still much longer. Taking stock of her surroundings, she'd cringed and cleaned up, clearing out numerous beer cans and various other alcohol bottles, along with garbage and laundry just strewn about haphazardly.

A noise below her drew her from her reverie, but upon inspection she found nothing amiss. Lucas made his usual rounds, tipping his hat to her as he passed. She inclined her head in greeting and turned back to the scenery in front of her.

And was immediately scared out of her wits.

"Nice view you got up here, Bambi," Butch said from beside her. That must have been the noise she heard, as he'd appeared from seemingly nowhere while her head had been turned.

"Jesus Christ, Butch, I damn near kicked you off my roof. I thought you'd learned not to sneak up on me?" One would figured he'd have learned, considering she'd decked him no less than four times in the last two days.

"Just keepin' you on your toes, Darlin'," he said with a grin, swinging his feet off the edge of her roof like a goddamn child. She sneered at 'darlin'. Damn it, he had dimples, too.

"Go away, Butch."

"Nuh-uh, not until you talk to me," he said, leaning back on his palms to further plant himself beside her. She glared at him.

"There's nothing to talk about." She hated to admit it, but Butch had definitely grown into a magnificent specimen. The crisp black shirt he wore without his stupid Tunnel Snakes jacket pulled against his figure to reveal a hard toned body, and his skin was more golden than she'd remembered- no doubt from being in the sun. His chin was no longer as smooth as he kept it in the vault. Instead, he sported stubble that threatened to burst into a full beard. It was a good look for him, as it accented his high and sharp cheekbones. He no longer had the stupid greaser hair either, instead taking to keeping it cropped relatively short and not bothering to style it. His nose was still slightly crooked, and his eyes were a piercing silvery-blue framed by thick black lashes. They were a stark contrast with his black hair and bronzed skin. This man exuded full male sensuality, and she wasn't even sure he was aware of it.

And she hated that she was attracted to him. Him and those goddamn dimples.

"There's a lot to talk about, Bambi," he said simply, turning his lazy gaze to her. Her venomous glare seemed to be having no effect on him.

"Go back to the vault, Butch, you don't belong out here," she bit out, turning her glare to the last rays of sunlight that she was no longer paying attention to. She was all too aware of him, too aware of the warmth he radiated in the chilled evening air.

"Bambi, I've been out of the vault for two years. I left shortly after you did the second time," he said.

"What? Why?"

He shrugged and turned back to the view, dismissing the inquiring gaze she'd whipped at him. "Amata sorta went insane after you'd killed her dad. She took to the Overseer role entirely too well and is ruling with an iron fist. She did keep her promise to you, though. She let people leave if they wanted to."

Anya thought back to her last and final visit to the vault, when Amata had sent out a broadcast to seek her out. Her father had just died and she'd needed familiar faces, but instead she was cast into even more turmoil as she tried to do the right thing and failed.

Doing what she thought was right had cost her her only childhood friend. Everything had been in utter chaos, with Amata's father threatening to kill anyone who tried to leave. It left Anya with only one option she could see at the time- kill him. Upon his death, Amata took the role of Overseer. And in order to protect the sanity of the remaining people in the vault, Amata banished Anya.

Upon being cast out permanently, Anya had made Amata promise that if anyone wanted to leave, she would let them. Amata agreed, but on the condition they only had a month to do so.

Anya pulled her legs up from hanging over the roof of her home, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. She stared at the fading sunlight pensively. "It appears I've had a bigger impact than I thought."

"Yeah, but it was for the best. It was only me and a few others that left before Amata sealed the vault. Everyone else was too scared to leave."

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, in a quiet voice.

"Sorry? For what?" Butch said, arching a brow at her.

"I've ruined a lot of lives in doing what I thought was right, yours included."

"Nah, Bambi. I love being out here. Sure the air isn't as fresh and it's a hard life, but I'd rather be here to see things like this," he gestured his stubbled chin to the sunset, "than only reading books about it."

"What happened after you left? It's been two years since then, and I'm honestly surprised you survived," she said, releasing one leg to return back to dangling off the roof.

"When I got out, I didn't really know what to do. The first people I found called themselves Raiders, and I joined up with them. At first I thought they were my kind of people. A lot of them reminded me of the Tunnel Snakes, but then the raids started. It made me understand why they were called 'Raiders'. They killed innocent people, and took women against their will before killing them. It was some rough shit."

"That's awful," Anya said quietly. "How did you get away?"

"That was the hard part. One of their guys caught me tryin' to sneak out of camp and thought I was gonna steal from them and maybe even tell competing Raider camps about them. They chained me up and ripped me to shreds, then left me for dead. I would be dead if a caravan hadn't found me."

Anya cringed. The Raider's favourite form of punishment was using crudely crafted cat o nine tails that had glass and barbed wire embedded in the tips. She could only imagine the horror of it. She studied him in the dying light, taking note of thin white lines that peeked out from under his collar on his neck and the puckered marks circling his wrists- evidence of the horrors he'd lived through. He caught her staring and grinned.

"See somethin' ya like?"

"Shut up, Butch." He chuckled as she turned from him, heat infusing her face at the truth of his words.

"To be honest," he said quietly. "I'm really surprised I survived too." His morose tone made her turn back to him, and she gasped. Every inch of his back was marred with scarring. Ugly puckered lines, long healed, crossed jaggedly across his otherwise flawless skin. She reached out and traced a particularly ugly scar that seemed larger than the rest.

"That one's from an axe they tried to bury in my back. I was lucky they chose the weakest guy to do it. They drug me to the desert and left me to die. I would've, too, if it hadn't been for the caravan. They found me, patched me up, and made me one of their own once I was healthy enough," he said, pulling his shirt back over his head. "Through it all, I only wished I could die, though."

"Christ, I'm sorry," Anya said, her voice laced with horrified guilt. The revelation made her dizzy and she laid back. The sun was well below the horizon now, and even through the dim lights of the city, the stars offered a dazzling display.

"Don't you dare try to blame yourself for it, Bambi. It was a life experience I'd never trade for anything. So, what's a few scars? I'm alive, and that's what counts," he responded, laying back beside her.

"Why are you here? What happened to the caravan?" He huffed a sigh.

"I traveled with them for a little over a year. Saw some cool shit, saw some bad shit. Experienced life, and man it was so much better than living in a stale old vault. The problem came when they tried to shove their ideals on me, and I don't play that shit. So when they least expected it, I left, and found my way here after a month of wandering aimlessly."

"Hmm," was all she responded with. She had to admit she was curious to know more, but she wouldn't press the matter. In just two years, he'd lived a rougher life than she had in five. He'd definitely changed and was no longer the arrogant prick that she'd known. No, he'd matured and grown into a rather admirable man.

Butch sat up, staring up into the sky. "What happened to you, Anya?" His tone was quiet and reverent, but what caught her attention the most was his use of her given name. No pet name meant he was looking for serious conversation and she sighed. She didn't know if she was ready to divulge everything, but she also knew he wouldn't fuck off if she didn't.

"It took me three years to find dad," she started slowly. "Three years and then he died right in front of me. There was nothing I could do, I couldn't even hold him while he choked and died on radiation. He sacrificed himself for Project Purity, and when he did, expectation fell on me to continue the project. I panicked and left, and let my problems consume me. I'd just lost my dad and had the weight of the wastes on my shoulders. I'm not a leader."

Butch snorted. "I find that hard to believe. You were always a bossy bitch."

"I was not!" She punched him in the arm, and he laughed. It was a good laugh, one that had her chuckling alongside him. In the darkness of her mental state, Anya appreciated that laugh.

"What happened to that girl from the vault, though? The strong and independent one I admired and fell for?"

"She's gon- wait, what?" Anya sat up and furrowed her brows. Had she heard him correctly? Judging by the embarrassment spread across his features as he rubbed his neck, she guessed she did hear him right.

"Ah, yeah. That's not exactly somethin' I'd wanted to admit to, but I guess the cat's out of the bag."

"Butch, you used to terrorize me. I find it hard to believe you admired me," she scoffed, leaning back on her hands.

"I was scared of what I felt for you. I didn't know how to handle it, and I acted in the only way I knew, the only way I'd seen- and that was the way my dad was. I regretted it for years, but I thought that if you hated me, then I wouldn't have to face my feelings. That they'd just go away after so long. But they never did, and my wanting just grew stronger. So I fought against them harder. And, well, here we are. I am sorry for the way I treated you, though. Those were the acts of a childish fool, and I've grown and realized a lot since then."

Anya studied him, though he still looked at the sky. There was no hint that he was playing with her, only a frightening seriousness glinting in his eyes. She didn't know how to take the new revelation. He'd tormented her harsher than he'd tormented anyone else, and she had grown to hate him for a time. But deep down, even then, she'd struggled against her attraction to this asshole. But he was different now, life in the wastes had changed him. Hardened him. Gone was the boy, a man in his place- a man haunted by the things he'd seen, the things he'd experienced. She found herself leaning towards him, curiosity making her bold. Surprised, he turned his face towards her and leaned back slightly.

"Anya, what are you doing?" Nervousness laced his voice and made his body go rigid.

"Shut up, Butch," she muttered, closing the distance. Her heart was thundering in her chest and she was questioning her sanity, but there was no going back now.

Her lips met his, gentle and testing. He yielded to her slightly, though she could tell he was holding back. He was tense and shaking from exertion. Doubt poured into her and she pulled away from him. She refused to meet his gaze, his bright blues boring into her face for an intense moment. His hand made its way to her face, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him before he leaned back into her. He pressed his lips against hers, hungry and demanding. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she gripped at the back of his head, pulling at him in an effort to get closer. He hauled her into his lap and she settled there with her knees at either side of his hips. She didn't care if they were out in the open. She didn't care if they were in full view of anyone that would pass below. All she could focus on was his heat and scent engulfing her, making her lose her sense of time and space.

Anya realised then just how big a man he was. It was much different straddling his lap than having him leaning menacingly over her in the hallways of the vault. Her lithe and petite body fit snugly against his sculpted bulk. He smelled like smoke. Like campfire smoke and...spices? She couldn't place the undertone scent, but it suited him well. As did the short hair, though she mourned her inability to run her fingers through the longer locks of his youth.

She felt...giddy. And green. Oh, she was no virgin. She'd had a few flings with Jericho shortly after returning from destroying the vault, but that was just tension-relieving angry sex and neither party wanted nor expected more. This...this was different. This was exotic and intoxicating. It scared the hell out of Anya, but exhilarated her at the same time. And judging by the evidence hardening beneath her, it was affecting him much the same way. She ventured her tongue forward, teasing at him. He groaned and yielded to her, opening his mouth so her tongue could dance with his. Instinctively, she ground her hips against his and earned another groan from him while he met her eagerly.

But then he pulled away, much to her discontent. "Anya," he moaned quietly, nipping at her neck between breathless pants. "As entertaining as it would be to give the town a show, your roof isn't exactly comfortable."

Her knees screamed in protest as evidence of his words. She'd been so caught up in him that she hadn't even noticed the hard edges of the sheet metal digging into her flesh. She laughed lightly, leaning in to steal more titillating kisses. Finally, after a few more moments, she removed herself from him. She slid from her roof and onto the stacked crates at the side of her house with practiced ease, looking back up at Butch with a quirked brow and a saucy smile. His eyebrows rose as he understood her silent invitation, and he followed close behind her.

They entered her small and meager home, and Butch looked around, halfway interested. But the moment Anya kicked the door closed, he was on her. He pushed her back against the door, his mouth locked to hers in a sort of hurried desperation. She responded to him, her body on fire everywhere he touched her. His hands explored her while his lips teased her. He was at least a foot taller than she was, and his bulk trapping her smaller figure against the door sent a spiraling wave of exhilaration down her spine.

He lifted her then, guiding her legs to wrap around his narrow hips while her hands gripped into his feathery hair. Everything he did sent fiery sparks through her body- he ground his body against her, she moaned. He nipped at her neck, she groaned. He cupped her breast in his large hand, she gasped. She cried out when he dipped his head and teased at her nipple through the simple cotton shirt she wore.

"Shit, Bambi," he growled hoarsely. He removed them from the door, then, carrying her against him to her room and falling atop her on the bed. The frame creaked threateningly, but soon accepted their joined weight. Anya ripped at his shirt, frantically trying to remove it from him like he was with hers. Soon enough, the offending articles of clothing were removed and Anya released another gasp. She really couldn't believe that the boy she knew grew into this powerful figure, but here he was. She feathered a hand down his well sculpted body, watching in pleasure as his own nipples hardened to her touch. He replicated her movements, running his hands down her body before he leaned down and teased her breasts with his tongue- all while watching her and her reactions. She arched her back to press further into him while clutching at the back of his head. More. She needed more.

"You," he muttered into her skin between teasing kisses, "are way more sexy that I'd ever imagined."

She responded by tugging at his jeans, unsure she could trust herself with words. What could she even say? That she'd never in a million years would have thought she would be this kind of situation with him? That she had fantasised many tines as a teen about fucking him? No, definitely not. So, she let her actions speak for her instead. He chuckled against her. It was a deep and guttural sound that gave her chills. She allowed her hands to slip beneath the waistband, seeking out his length. When she found it, she let out a surprised gasp. So all the times she thought he was joking about his size, he really wasn't. Jericho hadn't exactly been a small man, but Butch was definitely larger. She paused, wondering if he'd even be able to fit.

"You thought I was joking, didn't you?" He chuckled, mirroring her exact thoughts. He pressed his hips forward with a soft moan so her hands would slowly run the length of him. She let out a gasp again. Yup. Definitely bigger than she'd expected. He flicked open the button of her own jeans, yanking them and her underwear off in one swift motion. Surprised at how smooth the action was, she looked at him with eyebrows raised. He met her surprise with a mischievous grin before discarding the rest of his own clothing and settling atop her once more.

"Christ, Butch," she groaned into him as he dipped his head to hers once more.

"Hmmm?" He hummed, an amused tone lacing itself into his voice. He pressed the tip of his length against her, just barely resting himself against her opening. Her reaction to him was far greater than she was expecting. Her hips jerked up to meet his, her heart thundered in her chest, and her breath came up short.

"If I didn't know any better, Bambi, I'd say you had the hots for me," he teased, pressing his length further so the tip rested just inside. Damn him and his games! Damn her for reacting so strongly to him!

"Mmmm, if I didn't know better, Butch, I'd say it's you who had the hots for me," she responded. She hated how breathless her voice was, but it had its desired effect. His eyes darkened and he growled something unintelligible. With one quick thrust, he was sunk deep into her. Both of their voices rang out at the ripple of pleasure the snug fit sparked through them.

"Shit, Anya," he muttered, his voice a lot less steady than it had been moments before. She moaned her response to him as he began moving within her- pulling out a small bit, then pushing in, pulling out further, then back in. His body trembled with restraint to allow her body to adjust to his girth.

"Don't hold back," she told him, arching into him, gripping at him, clenching her legs around his hips to move with him. Desperate and frenzied. Still, he held back. And then he stopped. She squeaked a complaint as he pulled back from her slightly.

"Anya," he said brows furrowed.

"What?" she breathed.

"I don't have any sort of like...protection, or anything," he said in a pained voice. She gave a small chuckle and squeezed her walls on him, earning a harsh moan and his head dropping to rest against her chest.

"I'm a product of radiation. It's why I have white hair, and why I can't have kids," she muttered. "So, by all means, please don't hold back."

He responded by thrusting into her. Hard. Still partially sitting up, he mirrored her desperation, plunging into her body over and over as he watched her body ripple beneath him. Her climax built up and overflowed so rapidly that she didn't even have time to respond. All she could do while her body quivered was arch her back off the bed and grind out his name while her nails dug into his arms. A string of desirous expletives escaped from him until the final, hard thrust that sent him over the edge after her.

Panting he sat back on his heels, still inside her as his turgid length pulsed. He pushed in every so often, with harsh moans as he derived even more pleasure from the heightened sensations of the aftermath. His hands roamed her body lazily as she lay sprawled and open for him to observe. Her ivory skin was a stark contrast to his bronze. They sat like that for some time, their heavy breathing being the only sound in the room. His eyes raked over her body while hers did the same.

"Don't let this go to that big head of yours, but holy fuck," Anya muttered. He grinned at her with a mischievous glint in his eye as his cock sprang back to life inside her. He pushed his hips into hers again.

"You, on the other hand," he ground out, having unexpected reactions to his own movements, "are so much more than I'd ever imagined."

"Fantasizing of fucking me, hmm Butch?" Anya teased, shifting her hips in a wiggle. His eyes darkened, and suddenly he was on her once more. He pinned her wrists to either side of her head and pushed himself fully into her, to the hilt. She gasped as the sudden aggressiveness, arching her back so her nipples brushed his chest.

"You have no idea, Anya," he growled. She almost expected his kiss to be harsh and domineering, but was surprised to find it tender and possessive. He still moved inside her, even as he pulled back, igniting her body once more.

"Butch," she pleaded, squirming under him. His slow and methodical movements were building up that bubble again. The anticipation alone was enough to kill, yet he kept an agonizingly steady pace.

"Ever since we were teens, I've dreamed about this," he moaned into her ear while nibbling at it.

"Is that so?" Her voice quivered, even as she tried taunting him into speeding his thrusts to feed the wild desperation she felt.

"Ohh, yes. I've dreamed of taking you fast and hard, as we just did. Slow and torturous as we're doing now. And so, so much more. You, Anya, would be any man's wet dream, with this body of yours. Damn, you're so tight, though. This is more of a challenge than I thought it'd be." He released a hard, guttural moan as he pushed in, the tip of him pressing deliciously against her innermost wall. She lifted her hips to meet him, to take him deeper with a sharp intake of breath.

"Damn it, Anya, you make it hard to keep control," he groaned into her neck, biting at the slick flesh she presented to him. Holding onto her wrists above her head with one hand, he used the other to slowly caress the length of her body. Every now and then he would alternate between soft moans and single-worded comments. His touch gave her chills and heightened her pleasure while he slowly tortured her from the inside out.

"Butch, please," she whimpered to him, squirming beneath him and trying to grind her hips against his every time his cock hit home.

"Please, what?" He chuckled against her ear, earning a huff from her. She lifted her legs and locked her ankles behind his back, trying her hardest to bring him further into her.

"I can't take it anymore," she pleaded. "I need you to fuck me a lot harder than you are right now."

She felt him grin against her neck before he lifted the weight of himself off her. With a guiding hand, he rolled her over until she was bent on her elbows and knees before him, exposed to him. He braced her hips with his hands and stared down at the smooth expanse of her back her in appreciation for a moment. "I thought you'd never ask."

He rammed himself back in, matching the speed and fervor of their first coupling. He bent low over her back, biting her shoulder to add exotic sensations to their frenzied mating. Within moments Anya was sent over the edge. Amid her whimpering cries and shuddering walls, he pushed himself into her as far as he could. He lifted his head, his own pleasured cries rising to join hers as her body milked his.


	2. 2

"Butch."

Silence.

"Butch, I know you're awake."

"Nuh-uh."

"Butch, get off me, I'm hungry." The statement was accentuated by Anya's stomach growling loud enough it echoed in the small room. Butch chuckled and shifted, turning his face to nip at her bare skin before unravelling himself from her. He sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and also watching her as she stretched. Even after their night alternating of strenuous activities, she still felt self conscious. She blushed and avoided his eyes as she found clothing, stuffing herself into them and hiding herself from him.

"Anya," he muttered, still sitting on the bed in all his hard-muscled naked glory. She ignored him, stuffing her feet into her worn boots. He caught her wrist. "Anya, don't hide from me."

She paused and half turned to him. Her heart was thundering and she was confused by the feelings coursing through her. She didn't do relationships. Relationships were dangerous, relationships ended in death and heartbreak. Sex was safe, sex didn't have commitment, not for her. But her growing affection scared her, and suddenly she understood why he'd been such an ass to her growing up.

"Anya, don't hide. You're gorgeous, and goddamn sexy. I know you're probably freakin' out, but we can take the rest slowly. Just kinda put out feelers, y'know?"

She turned to him fully then, brows furrowed. "Even if we end up just being friends with added benefits?"

He grinned and leaned back on his palms on her bed. She wanted to punch the arrogance from his face, but she was too busy blushing madly. Christ, he was beautiful, what the hell. "Yup, even then. Even if we don't have a full relationship, there's nothing wrong with stress relief through sex."

Anya let her shoulders slump and sighed- whether in relief or regret, she wasn't sure. Those were the words she wanted to hear, so she didn't understand why she felt a sense of loss at them. Still, she gave him a smile she knew didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks. Now let's go get some grub."

He grinned and stood. Her face reddened further and she had to turn her gaze away from his magnificent form. Seriously, what the hell? She remembered him being large, but she also distinctly remembered him being...more...squishy. Now he was all corded muscle and complete sensuality and it damn near drove her to distraction when his naked-ass bent over her and stole a heated kiss from her before scooping up his own clothing.

They emerged from her house as the sun was cresting on the horizon. Morning birds were out and singing their songs, and the townspeople were just starting to go about their day. The air was crisp and cool, if a little damp from the dew that coated the meager plantlife scattered about. Anya stretched further, releasing a loud yawn that echoed into the crater. Butch snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her to him and burying his face against her neck. His stubble scraped against her skin and tickled her. He growled appreciatively to the smell of sex still clinging to her skin.

"Butch, quit," she laughed, half-heartedly pushing against him.

"That's not what you told me last night," he teased, nipping at her neck, which was marked with evidence of his possession. She laughed and shoved him harder and he easily broke away from her. The look he pinned her with was full of heat and she gifted him with a mischievous smile. She opened her mouth to tell him to shove it, but their banter was interrupted by a sudden, shrill voice laced with excitement..

"Butch?!"

Confused, the pair turned to the source of the voice and found a girl that was the epitome of innocence. She wore an ivory gown that was near pristine, her black hair was pulled up into a decorative halo atop her head. Wide and innocent eyes topped high and angular cheekbones. Her figure was filled and curvy, and Anya assumed that she was one of his flings. She couldn't blame him. She was gorgeous, and if Anya swung that way, she'd have tried for the girl.

"Fuckin' hell," he muttered under his breath, his body going tense.

"What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into, Butch," Anya teased with a sly smile. Before he could answer, the girl ran up to them and threw herself into Butch's arms. The force of the impact was nearly enough to send them sprawling into the dirt.

"Mia," he grumbled with a pained expression. "I thought the caravan was on the other side of the wastes."

"Oh, we were!" She bounced excitedly when she removed herself. "But then the Elders decided the best course of action would be to visit every major city to find you!"

"Oh, this is rich," Anya said, laughing at Butch's obvious discomfort. The girl turned her wide green eyes on Anya.

"Butch, who's this?" She inquired, her eyes darting to the line of marks purpling against Anya's neck. Anya couldn't be certain, but she thought she detected a hint of unease in her voice- jealousy maybe?

"Anya, Mia. Mia, this is Anya. Childhood...ah... friend of mine." Butch's words were short and clipped with rising irritation. She stuck out her hand to Mia, who jumped and looked at it warily before taking it with the daintiest grip Anya had ever felt. She didn't take offense to the girl's reaction- she'd been told that she looked like she was ready to kill with just a single glance. Resting Bitch Face was another popular term for it.

"You might know me as 'Lone Wanderer'," Anya said in a tone that was dripping with enthusiastic sarcasm. Oh, this was fantastic. Judging by how much wider the girl's eyes got, she knew exactly who Anya was.

"The wasteland princess set forth to continue in her father's work?? The Lone Wanderer?"

"Unless there's more lonely people wandering around aimlessly, then yup, that's me!"

"Butch! You never told me you knew the lone wanderer!" Mia exclaimed in a voice that could break glass. Her behaviour drew eyes of curious bystanders, but Butch's eyes turned to Anya with brows drawn down. Anya shrugged. Her words were true, anyway. She had been lonely for a long time.

"So you're from the caravan, yeah? Butch told me a little about you guys," Anya said. A plan was forming in her head. It was a cruel one, but Anya wanted to cause a little trouble of her own. And the way Mia talked to and about Butch, Anya was almost certain she expected him to be…- What? Pure? Anya wasn't sure, but she wanted to find out. The plan might have been jealousy-fueled, but it wasn't something she'd openly admit to.

"Oh, yes! We found him a little over a year ago, I want to say. Poor thing was just torn to shreds and half dead in the middle of the desert. There were birds circling him! My mother and I helped to nurse him back to health and took care of him!"

"A fact that I'm very sure he is appreciative of. Though, I have to admit I'm appreciative of it too," Anya said, quirking a brow at Butch in meaning. A meaning that Anya was sure Mia gathered when her own dark brows furrowed. She raked her eyes down the girl's figure in an obvious display. "White seems impractical for a travelling band, though."

"Oh, it isn't white," Mia said, matter-of-factly while she brushed away invisible specks of dirt. "It's ivory and all the..uh…" she blushed, "un-soiled girls in our camp wear them in the cities in hopes of attracting an honorable man. It's sort of our tradition!"

"Is it now?" Bullseye.

"But now that Butch has returned to us, I guess I no longer need the Ivory and we can continue the ceremony!"

"Butch? Honorable? Please, don't make me laugh. The hell kinda tradition you people running?" Anya said, casting a mischievous glance at Butch. At her words, he caught the direction of her thinking and furrowed his brows.

"Anya, don't," he said. "She's just a kid."

"I am not a kid! I'm eighteen now!" She even stamped her foot, only emphasising Butch's point.

"What, Butch? It's only sex, it's not like it's a marriage proposal." Anya looked back to Mia, an eyebrow raised. The waif's face went paler than it already was and her mouth was slightly ajar. So sex was a marriage proposal to these people. What was it, the 18th century?

"You...and..?" The poor thing couldn't even bring herself to form the sentence. She looked between Butch and Anya so rapidly that Anya feared her head would unscrew and pop off.

"Mia, it's...complicated?" Butch offered lamely. His body language was tense, and his eyes were pleading with Anya. Oh no, he was gonna clean this one up all on his own. He got himself into this mess in the first place. And apparently didn't get himself out of it correctly.

"Oh," Anya puffed, placing her hands on her hips in a great show. "It seems like you two sure do have a lot to talk about. Hope I didn't ruin any expectations!"

"Anya," Butch warned. She pinned him with a glare and then gave him the same mischievous smile from earlier. Butch huffed a breath through his teeth. Excellent, just as she wanted.

"Don't be too long," she said, trying to add a hint of huskiness to her voice. She wasn't sure if it worked though, as she was trying to keep laughter at bay. "You know where I'll be."

Anya started on her way to Moriarty's, grinning to herself as she passed Mia. Yes, it was definitely cruel. But the girl needed to learn in this harsh world that expectations like hers were unrealistic. Oh, but it was always an interesting experience to come across someone so blatantly ignorant to the world. She felt a twinge of guilt at crushing her entire world, but she knew that a cute thing like her would find someone 'honorable' in no time. Maybe. But Butch was definitely not the kind of man she could handle. He wasn't the kind of man that would let himself get leg-shackled to someone with no experience in the real world. He'd lived through some horrible things, he'd even done some horrible things, and he wasn't good for that kind of pure innocence. Hell, his demons would destroy that poor girl. Anya, on the other hand...no. She didn't want to think about that. Their future was just too uncertain right now.

Mia's shrill screech echoed through the crater, and Anya cringed. Hopefully Butch's hearing wouldn't be affected by it. Anya swore she heard something about a whore, and she laughed. Innocent, indeed.

She pushed open the door to Moriarty's saloon with the toe of her boot and took a look around at the patrons, noting a few that looked at her warily. They were dressed in bright colours, and freakishly clean compared to the rest of the patrons and their surroundings. No doubt more members of the caravan. She meandered over and plopped herself into her usual stool at the bar. Moriarty looked at her with a suspicious squint.

"Yer a far cry different than I last saw you, girl. And is that a smile on your face? Up to mischief again, are you?"

"Something like that," she laughed.

"Well, whatever it is, it's good to have you back. The usual?"

"Nah, surprise me. And bring two plates, I'm expecting company." She swiveled her seat around and leaned back against the bar to observe the patrons as the older Irishman set about working. A majority of the newcomers eyed her, whispering amongst themselves. Anya picked up words hinting at her hair and how she must be a devil. The chatter only made her grin wider.

Moriarty returned shortly, placing plates on the counter. It was nice to have a different dish for a change, and she thanked him as she turned back to the counter.

"Whoever put that smile on your face, he has my thanks," Moriarty said with a raised brow.

"Who says it was a 'he'? Maybe I've turned to women for attentions, eh?" Anya teased, waving a speared roach bit at him with her fork.

He inclined his head with a cheeky grin, eyes looking far past her, "I figured it was a man, probably because there's a man at my door watching you intently, girl. And glaring jealous daggers at me."

Eyebrows raising, Anya looked over her shoulder to where Moriarty grinned. Sure enough, Butch was standing there. His eyes were hooded and his expression was unreadable. His appearance made the men in the room mutter faster and louder. Anya realized then that they all spoke a language that she couldn't fully understand- garbled gibberish was mixed with random english words and phrases. Shame. She wanted to know the effect of his sudden reappearance. He stepped towards her, passing behind her and taking the stool next to her.

He leaned in close to her and muttered into her ear as he raked his teeth behind her lobe, "You...are an absolute horror."

She laughed. Loudly. The mutterings of the patrons turned angry.

"Anya, do you have any idea what I just had to deal with? I don't even know if my hearing will ever be the same!" His tone was light and she knew he wasn't actually upset with her.

"Come on, Butch, you know it needed to be done. You, a virgin? Really? It took everything in me not to laugh in the poor girl's face!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just wish the entire thing weren't so...high pitched?" Butch glanced at the angry glares they were receiving from the corner of huddled men. He shrugged at them dismissively and they all stood. As they passed by Anya and Butch to leave, they made spitting sounds and motions. The action only served to make the pair laugh harder, which drew Moriarty's attention. His grim expression sobered them.

"Colin? What's wrong?" Anya asked.

"I don't like that lot. They give me a bad feelin'. They come in here and try to argue prices with Gob after they've eaten me out of house and home. I caught their "precious gem" trying to steal food as well. With how light their skin is, you'd think they never even worked a day in their life!"

"Is there anything Lucas and I can do about them, do you think?" Anya asked, glancing at Butch questioningly. He shrugged, telling her that he didn't really care what came of them.

"Well, you two are the enforcement around these parts. I imagine you can get 'em to leave. I'm sure Gob and Jericho wouldn't mind lending a hand with some brute force. Maybe even Butch here could help out."

"I'd love nothing more than to turn those pompous dicks out on their asses. Can you believe they tried to force me to conform to their standards and make me marry their precious little princess? Me? The Butch Man?" He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat while shoving food into his mouth with a note of finality. Anya laughed.

"Fine, fine. We'll finish eating and then find Lucas. Maybe you can pack somethin' up for him, Moriarty. We both know the man won't eat otherwise," Anya said, drawing out a handful of caps and shoving them at Moriarty. The man glowered at her and shoved half of them back at her. It was a constant war between them. She paid what she thought was fair wage, but he always took less than what he charged other patrons. Called it something like 'I can't in good conscious take money from a dear friend's daughter'. Preposterous. Still, she shrugged and pocketed the remaining currency while Colin prepared a plate for Simms. She would leave them anyway as they left, forcing the man to take the currency regardless.

Meals finished with light banter between parties, Butch and Anya soon set out to search Lucas' usual route. The sun was finally above the horizon and offered a glorious view of a sky painted in bright red and orange hues.

"Red sky at morning, sailor's warning," Butch muttered.

"Hmm? What's that?"

"Red sky at morning, sailor's warning. It's an old sailor superstition I read a while back that basically meant a storm was brewing somewhere on the sea and they should prepare," he said, casually pulling her to him again by sticking his hand in her rear pocket as they walked.

"You mean you actually read?" Anya teased. Butch made a sound and shoved her shoulder playfully.

Simms was at his usual post by the gate and Anya couldn't help but roll her eyes. Really, the man was going to run himself ragged. She waved as she approached, but a commotion in the small crowds behind her drew her attention. As she turned, Mia emerged from the crowd looking rather worse for wear. Her face was dirty and tear-streaked, her dress torn, and concern washed through Anya. Shoving Butch towards Simms with the food, she turned back to Mia and began walking to ask what happened and who'd done it.

Anya didn't get far.

"Stupid bitch!" Mia shouted as her wild eyes settled on Anya. Her screech made everyone silent as they all watched how the disturbance would play out.

"Excuse me?" Anya asked, flabbergasted, as she drew to a halt.

"He was supposed to be mine! Mine! But you just had to go and ruin it, you stupid slut! But that's okay because if I can't have him, then neither can you!"

The next events seemed to happen in slow motion. Mia raised her arm that had been hidden behind her and Anya reacted out of instinct. She always carried a pistol on her leg, and she drew the weapon and fired before Mia's muzzle had fully landed on it's target- whether it was Butch or Anya was unknown. The impact from Anya's bullet to the center of the girl's forehead caused the girl to squeeze the trigger and fire her own gun. Anya took a steadying step back and straightened.

Mia fell, eyes still wide open. Chaos ensued as her family rushed forward. The women wailed and the men demanded recompense. Moriarty had come out of his saloon to watch and had started running towards Anya the moment he saw Mia reach for the hidden weapon. Anya's sharp glance halted him.

"Lucas, remove the caravan people from my city," she said with an icy tone. It was a tone that garnered no argument and he tipped his hat, rushing forward. Anya turned her stony glare on Butch and bid him help Lucas. He, too, did not argue and hurried after the other man with a glance of concern as he passed.

She'd worn all black that day, a fact she was glad for. It meant they didn't see the blood pouring from the hole that Mia's stray bullet tore through her in the morning light.

She stumbled forward, a hand moving to the wound in the side of her abdomen. The wind was knocked out of her, and she was surprised her voice had remained stalwart while giving orders.

Her knees gave out, and suddenly Moriarty was there. Man, she wasn't fond of getting shot. Especially not by some psycho virgin with a misplaced sense of possession.

"She shot me, Colin. The bitch shot me," she mumbled. Shock slurred her words.

"Easy there, dear girl. I know, I saw," he said, keeping her from falling completely. "We gotta get you to Moira, she'll fix you right up."

Anya couldn't speak, only nod. Her adrenaline was waning and her knees buckled. Unfortunately, in Moriarty's advanced age, he couldn't fully handle her weight. "I can't, Colin. I'm sorry."

"You can! You must! I need your help, girl, just use those legs of yours to brace yourself. You're losing too much blood, we can't afford to dally."

"I can't," she slurred, slumping onto him completely. Black spots threatened her vision and everything moved in slow motion. All sounds were distant and distorted by the blood thundering in her ears. She looked up, willing Butch to see her. He was picking up the dead girl and loading her into a cart while her father refused to touch her body- his actions and angry movements suggested the dead were impure. She curled her lip at the pompous asshole.

"Come on, darling girl, we're almost there. Just a few more steps!"

Anya looked towards Moira's shack. The distance, to her, seemed greater than just a few more steps. Her focus returned to Butch, and as if by her sheer willpower he finally looked at her. His face was all she could focus on as blackness rolled over her in flashing waves.

Butch shouting incoherently, the panic in his voice rising above the din of confusion.

Butch turning to run towards them, tearing himself from the people crowded around him.

Butch reaching her limp body and hauling her into his arms, his expression somehow fierce and scared.

The cold steel of Moira's operating table.

Butch's panicked and angry voice as he's forced from the room by Moriarty and Jericho as Moira began work.

And then nothing.


	3. 3

Anya woke in stages. The first thing she was aware of was the burning pain in her side. The second thing she was aware of was that she was hot. Too hot. She was covered in a thick wool blanket, and it was uncomfortable. Furrowing her brow, she noticed that there was a weight to her right. It was small and inconsequential, but whatever it was made the mattress dip where it rested. She dragged her eyes open with great effort, but quickly shut them again. It felt like someone threw sand in her face. Instead, she reached a hand towards the weight and was met with...hair? Her eyes flew open and she turned her head.

Butch sat in a chair beside her bed, leaning over the side of the mattress so his head rested on his arms. He was sound asleep and looked uncomfortable as all hell. Her hand was touching his hair, which looked like he'd been running his hands through it more than sleeping. She worked to smooth stray tufts, the small movement working to exhaust her. He stirred then, inhaling deeply and lifting his head to study his surroundings. He froze beneath her touch.

"Anya!" He exclaimed, toppling the chair he'd been sitting in as he stood and gripped her hand.

"G'morning princess," she muttered to him with a weak smile.

"Christ, Anya, you scared the shit out of me. If I'd known you'd been hit," his voice trailed off with a slight quiver of emotion.

"I know," she said, closing her eyes again. "It's why I sent you to help."

His grip on her hand tightened. "You're not allowed to die on me, Anya, not after I finally found you again."

His words rang familiar, echoing the words she'd screamed as her father lay dying out of her reach. She sucked in a shuddering breath against the guilt. Truth be told, she had hoped to die from Mia's shot. It was why she'd sent Butch away. It was more or less cowardice, her demons rising up to cloud her judgement yet again.

"I'm sorry," was all she could manage in a tiny voice.

"Just try to not be stupid again, okay?"

She was quiet for a moment, pensive. Long enough that his grip loosened as he thought she'd drifted back to unconsciousness. But she held on. "I'm not used to relying on others," she admitted.

"Well you better get used to it, Bambi. You're not gonna get rid of me so easily."

"Why do you call me that? I'm not some helpless little deer," she grumbled.

"No, far from it actually. You gotta remember that the helpless little deer grew up and became the prince of the forest."

"Except, I guess, I'm the 'princess' of the wastes."

Silence stretched between them. He righted the chair and rested his head against her hip on her uninjured side. She brought her hand up to stroke his hair absentmindedly. She opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling.

"Butch?"

"Hmm?" He sounded tired.

"I'm scared."

"I know."

"How long was I out?" He lifted his head to look at her, and she drank in the sight of his disheveled appearance. Circles darkened underneath his shadowed eyes and hair stuck out in every which way. His stubble was threatening to become a full on beard, and the look actually suited him well. It gave him an even more exotic appearance.

"I think it's been two days now. Maybe more, I don't know" he said.

"Have you even slept?" She put her hand to his cheek and his body seemed to slump at her touch.

"No, not really." She glared at him and steeled herself against the pain she knew was to come. She began moving, shifting herself to make room for him on the absurdly large bed.

"Anya, no, don't. You can't be moving much right now, you'll rip open your stitches."

"Then shut up and make sure my efforts weren't in vain," she said through clenched teeth. She patted the space she made for him and he sighed.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman," he said, standing. But he didn't join her on the bed. Instead he went to a table that was placed at the foot of the bed that held various objects. He retrieved one and Anya could see the glinting metal of a stimpak. He came to the opposite side of the bed, lifting the arm of her injured side and inserted the needle without even so much as a pause. She hissed at the pinch, but delicious numbness washed over her.

"Thanks," she said, relaxing into the weirdly plush mattress. She lifted her leg and kicked the blanket off of her, sighing in relief as cool air rushed her heated body.

"You're running a fever and need to be kept warm," Butch admonished.

"Yeah, well. Not with that I'm not. Unless you plan on boiling me alive."

He rolled his eyes and removed the blanket, striding to the closet that had a crooked door. Wrenching the door open he tossed the wool blanket inside and selected a different one that was once a powder blue colour. It was threadbare, but when he draped it on her, it was warm enough.

"This is weird," she said.

"What is?"

"My childhood bully playing nursemaid to me," she teased. He gave a strained smile and lifted the edge of the blanket and her shirt to check her bandages.

"C'mon, Butch. Lighten up, I'm not dead yet. You act like you're attending my funeral."

"I'm sorry. I'm just tired I guess. When they finally let me in here, I was convinced you were gone and it hurt Bambi. It hurt so damn much and it scared the shit outta me. I'm not used to these kinds of feelings. Moira said that if that bullet had been just an inch in either direction..." His breath hitched. He was unravelling from nerves and lack of sleep.

He looked so intensely sad that Anya could feel her heart lurch. She lifted a hand and placed it against his cheek and he turned his face into her touch.

"Come get some rest. Everything will be fine, everything _is_ fine."

He nodded solemnly and trailed back to the other side of the bed, dousing candles as he went. He removed his boots and his belt and then dropped his bulk into the bed beside her. Mindful of her injuries, he curled against her side. He rested his head on her shoulder and draped an arm and leg over her. He took a shuddering breath and squeezed lightly as she feathered her fingers through his hair. He was asleep within minutes, leaving her alone to ponder his actions and her own emotions in the darkness.

She knew she cared for him. Seeing the hurt evident on his face had hurt her in turn and made her chest squeeze painfully. But love? She didn't know if she was capable of the emotion. She'd never actually experienced it outside of the love a daughter felt for her father- and even then she was unsure what she felt for her own father after so much deceit on his part. Besides, they'd only been reunited for such a short time. Surely love wasn't that quick? She furrowed her brows and turned her head to place a soft kiss against the crown of his head.

_I don't know_, she told herself, even as tender feelings flooded through her. She was scared. Just as he had been scared for her, what if the roles were reversed? She hated to admit it, but she would have been hysterical. Her thoughts in a turmoil, she closed her eyes and drifted into a light sleep. Her body was still fully aware of her surroundings, but she couldn't bring herself to stir as she heard movement in the room.

Hours later, she opened her eyes again. Butch lay snoring against her side still. Light filtered in through the broken blinds hanging lopsided from the window. Anya allowed her eyes to roam the room and her gaze settled on a piece of paper sitting on the rickety table beside her bed. She stiffly reached for it and brought it to her face. It wasn't signed, but she recognized the scrawling script as Moriarty's.

_Get well soon, kid. And keep ahold on that man of yours. Fierce loyalty like his is rare around these parts._

Anya didn't get too much of a chance to think about the note before Moira came bustling in. Her face lit up when she saw that Anya was awake, and opened her mouth to speak before spotting Butch nestled against her.

"Oh, good, you've gotten him to finally sleep. I was getting worried there for a minute! I was ready to shove a sleeping medicine down his throat if he didn't stop wearing a path in my floor from pacing."

Anya smiled slightly. "So he's barely left the room?"

"Oh, as soon as I opened the door, he pushed his way in. The only time he's left was to make sure the caravan left the city, which they have." Moira set a lopsided vase of tiny flowers on the table. They were ugly, but the thought touched Anya and her smile broadened.

"So how long have I actually been out? Butch didn't seem like he even knew what time was," Anya inquired. Moira's brows drew down.

"He's worse off than I thought. It's been six days. You lost a lot of blood and I had to put you to sleep to slow the damage you were doing to yourself. We were all worried when you didn't wake after the procedure."

"How bad was it?" Anya cringed, unsure if she wanted to know.

"Well. The bullet wasn't a high powder count, so even though it was a .45 caliber, it didn't punch all the way through. I had to fish the lead out- it was hiding behind your kidney, you know. But you're lucky. The blood made it look a lot worse than it was, but if it had just been a few inches over more, you would have lost a kidney. Worse, had it been higher."

Anya stared at the ceiling and thought about that. Brushes with mortality had been rare for her of late, what with the hiding and the drinking. Being shot really put everything into perspective, and a rush of guilt flooded her. People relied on her, she was the only one with the knowledge required to complete Project Purity, and she'd just abandoned them. Failed them.

It was that moment she vowed to continue her father's work- if the brotherhood would even take her back into their fold.

But first, there was a more urgent need. She nudged Butch until he started to stir.

"Moira, can you see if Moriarty will bring food? I'm damned starving. And I'm sure this idiot hasn't bothered to eat a whole lot."

Moira left with a smile and a promise to return shortly with the Irishman and food.

"I heard that," Butch mumbled against her shoulder. He loudly stretched and sat up.

"Good. You can't just run yourself into the ground like this, idiot," she admonished. "Now help me sit up."

He chuckled and walked to the janky closet, pulling handfuls of pillows from it. "Yes, ma'am."

With great effort, she sat up and he stuffed pillows behind her. By the end of the chore, she was shaking and sweating from exertion.

"Easy, doll. Don't push yourself too hard just yet," Butch mumbled, tucking the blanket back around her torso.

"Man, I hate being an invalid. Weakness doesn't suit me well," she grumbled, then turning a mischievous eye on Butch. "Although, having a hot guy play nurse for me is a bonus, I guess."

Butch grinned cheekily, feigning fluttering eyelashes with his hand postured like a demure damsel. "Aw, Bambi, do you really mean it? You think I'm hot?"

"Don't let it go to your head, now," she said, returning his grin. She had to admit that even as tousled as he was, it just added to his charm. His stubble had grown further and he now sported what could be considered a beard and moustache. His hair stuck up in every direction, smashed on one side from where he laid his head down to sleep. He was far from the untouchable prick from their teen years. He was so absurdly human in this instant that she couldn't hold back a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" He asked, quirking a brow as he plopped himself back into the bedside chair.

"You," she said, giving into peals of laughter as she realized the absurdity of her thoughts.

"Me? What about me?"

"Well, just think. If Vault Butch had seen how you look now, all disheveled and shit, he would freak the fuck out. Back then you were all about smooth skin and slicked hair," she said, her mirth waning as pain set in. She didn't let her grin falter, though.

"Ah, yeah. He was a pompous ass, sorta like those caravan dicks," he said with a chuckle. He took her hand and held tight to it as silence stretched between them. It wasn't an awkward silence, more of the companionable kind. All the same, Anya felt restless.

"Butch...I," she began. She wasn't sure how to tell him she was leaving, to continue the work she should have finished years ago. But she was saved the trouble by Moriarty and Jericho clattering into the room, arms piled with various foods. Moira followed close behind them, and soon her thoughts were pushed aside as the room became crowded.

Moriarty was setting up plates, Moira filling those plates, all while Jericho was quietly threatening Butch into taking care of Anya properly- or else. It was overwhelming, the sense of belonging she felt in that moment. Right there were the four most important people in her life, and she smiled.

It turned out, Moriarty brought enough food for an army. Soon the four of them were sat with plates piled, laughing and overall enjoying themselves. Jericho made jokes for the first time that Anya had ever seen. Moriarty told stories of his childhood, growing up in the wastes. Moira also chimed in with her own memories. Butch charmed them all with his wit. Anya sat quietly, watching the camaraderie between her small family. And that's exactly what the people in this room were to her- the family she didn't have. The family she never really had.

And it made what she had to say all the more harder.

She set her plate down quietly, not looking at those around her. The mirth quieted, and she felt more than saw their curious gazes turning to her.

"Bambi?" Butch prompted. She fought back a cringe.

"I'm going to be leaving as soon as I am able to," she blurted out, thankful that her voice remained steady despite her inner turmoil.

"Leaving? The hell you tryin' to run off to now?" Chimed Jericho. She gave a heavy sigh.

"I have to stop running away. This whole being shot thing made me realize that by running away, I jeopardize the livelihoods of hundreds of people. I'm the only one with the knowhow to ensure Project Purity is a success, so as soon as I'm able to, I'm going to the Citadel and begging for forgiveness from Owyn."

She finally looked up and was met with a sad smile from Moira, a proud grin from Moriarty, and a rather neutral expression from Jericho. Butch's brows were drawn down in confusion.

"The Citadel is what exactly?" He asked.

Anya rolled her eyes and launched into an explanation of the six months she spent with her father, and the two she spent at the Citadel after his death. "I let a lot of people down when I left. I don't even have a right trying to go back, but I have to try. I have to make things right, and I can only hope that I'm not too late. Two years is a long time for the Enclave to have destroyed everything else we had in place."

"Well, how far is the Citadel from here?"

Anya's brows drew down in thought and she looked to Jericho for confirmation. "Maybe, what, a two day ride from here?"

"If that," Jericho affirmed with an incline of his head. "Maybe a day and a half if you don't stop."

"Okay, well, I'm coming with you." Oh boy.

"Absolutely not," she said, glaring at Butch.

"Why not?" He challenged.

"You wouldn't last out there. You may have wandered the wastes with the caravan, but I highly doubt they ever experienced ghouls or supermutants with how mamby-pamby that lot was," Anya said, her voice laced with venom.

"You know I can take care of myself. I can help you, and if you go and get yourself shot again, who's gonna save your ass if you're alone?"

"Nope!" She yelped stubbornly. The last thing she needed was a distraction out there.

"Anya, he has a point," Moira interjected quietly. Incredulous, she looked around the room and could see the others also agreed. It only served to fuel her irritation with him.

"Fine, but if you fall behind your ass is getting left behind," she said without thinking. It was a threat that came out in habit to people who had tried keeping pace with her in the past. Glaring at Butch as she said it, she saw hurt and anger flash in his eyes and she realized too late what she'd said. Dropping her gaze and relaxing her shoulders, she heaved another sigh.

"Butch..." she began.

"No. You made your position perfectly clear," he said in clipped tones. He stood and left the room. The crooked door slammed in place behind him, making Anya flinch. Nobody said anything for a moment.

"That was done in poor taste, my girl," Moriarty said solemnly before rising himself to collect everything he'd brought. Jericho slunk out the door without a word and poor Moira looked like she wanted to cry.

"How long until I can leave?" Anya said, voice tight. Moira cleared her throat.

"A week, maybe? Given your condition, I don't think it should take longer than that."

All Anya could do was nod as the remaining parties left the room, left her to her inner turmoil.


End file.
